


The Bet

by TrulyMightyPotato



Series: Royal Flush [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 1920s slang, Dan's gone through a lot, I blame the Cabbage of the group, Letters from Home, Sadness, half the things have an American spelling and half don't, not the cabbage though, references to WW1, this does get pretty heavy, this is what happens when Dan and Phil make a bet, though it's called the Great War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato
Summary: Dan and Phil make a friendly little bet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This happens shortly after chapter 11 in Against All Odds.

It was a quiet evening in Dan and Phil’s apartment. The living room was filled with cool autumn air, drifting in from the window Dan had propped open earlier, and the faintest hint of whatever scented candle Phil had lit most recently.

Phil was reading silently on his side of the couch, and Dan was scritching away with his pen in his personal journal at their desk. 

Well, Phil was pretending to read. In reality, he was thinking.

They’d had a really long day at work, repeatedly telling their boss that no, they didn’t have any information on the mystery shooter at the Commemoration because the bulls hadn’t released any information, yes, they would write an article on it as soon as they had the information, no, they hadn’t spoken to Justice Fischbach about it because he wouldn’t be allowed to talk about it until the bulls released the information, and, yes, they were still planning on working for the paper after what had happened.

Phil paused in his thinking and frowned. Nobody had bothered to ask how Dan was doing after hearing the shot, or in the day after. Work knew Dan had been on a bomb squad in the Great War, and he did sometimes get days off when he couldn’t handle people, but... It seemed insensitive. It  _ was _ insensitive.

Of course, most people weren’t living with Dan. They didn’t stay up with him half the night until he felt safe enough to fall asleep. Most people didn’t know how often Dan had been shot at, or that he’d lost friends to snipers. Most people hadn’t gotten the letters he’d sent home between missions. Even for those who had, Dan hadn’t told them nearly as much as he’d told Phil.

Phil was not surprised that Dan had nightmares.

“Phil?” Dan sounded calm, at least. 

Phil looked up to see Dan twisting around in his chair, ink smeared all the way up his left forearm (Dan had gotten in the habit of rolling up his sleeve before he started writing anything -- after getting several ink-stained shirts), looking expectantly at him.

“Yes?” Phil asked, closing his book on his finger.

“What do you say to a bet?”

“What?” Phil blinked, then reached for his bookmark. “What kind of bet?”

Dan grinned. “You know our neighbours with the dog?”

Phil nodded.

“Whichever one of us can get them to believe we’re capable of watching their dog for a day wins. The loser has to,” Dan paused, clearly thinking of something suitably horrible, “lighten their hair and can’t dye it back darker.”

Phil looked at Dan, then sighed. “Is this payback for the sparkly jacket yesterday?”

Dan blinked innocently. “Not unless you lose.”

Phil set his book on the table. “Alright. You’ve got yourself a bet.”

Dan grinned and practically launched himself from his chair, darting to the door.

Phil sat there for a minute, then sighed and stood. “Maybe he tripped in the hallway and I can still get to our neighbours first. Besides,” he added as he started walking, “just because he gets there first doesn’t mean he’ll convince them that easily.”

As it turned out, Dan had barely managed to get the door unlocked and open by the time Phil got there. For a brief moment, Phil entertained the thought of grabbing Dan from behind and dragging him back in the apartment to give Phil a headstart, but decided against it. 

There wasn't much point in the action when it would scare Dan.

Phil shoved his spectacles back up his nose -- things kept sliding down his face like they were sitting on a slope or something -- and followed Dan out.

“Mr. Howell, Mr. Lester, you've got to help us,” begged the voice of Martha Andersen, the eldest of the _ other _ neighbors’ three kids (none were older than 15), “Abernathy is stuck on top of the cupboard and we're not tall enough to get her down. And our parents are gone for another couple of hours.”

Dan looked at the three kids and their hopeful faces, then at Phil, then sighed. “Alright. Can't leave Abernathy to break all your mother's china.”

Phil nodded. “Of course we'll help.”

And as Dan trailed behind the children -- they looked exceptionally small next to Dan -- Phil made sure the apartment door was locked. Then he followed.

He'd only met Abernathy once before, back when he and Dan had first moved to Boston, to America, but the fluffy cat had been quite willing to let Phil pet it.

Dan, however, had only heard of the cat, as it never left the apartment and Dan had never before been willing to talk with the Andersens inside their apartment before.

Phil was honestly a little surprised the Andersen kids knew who Dan was. He'd never seen the two interact before.

“Why is Abernathy on your cupboard anyway?” Phil asked as they passed through the doorway into the Andersen apartment.

“John threw a fish up there.” Maddie, the middle child, said with all the enthusiasm and glee of being a tattler.

John, the youngest, crossed his arms. “Did not.”

“They were both throwing food,” Martha scowled at them.

Maddie and John grinned at each other.

Martha sighed and pushed past them. “Abernathy is in here.” She came to a stop next to a very tall cupboard, with the very fluffy form of Abernathy perched on top and looking down at them.

Dan paused and looked up at the cat. She was probably a good two feet even above their heads. “Abernathy doesn’t look stuck at all.”

“She’s not supposed to be up there, is the problem. And she won’t come down.”

Abernathy, completely unconcerned with having broken the rules, began licking one of her paws.

Dan and Phil exchanged a glance, then Dan sighed and walked up to the cupboard. “Make sure nothing else falls, alright?”

Phil nodded, stepping up beside him.

Getting Abernathy down was easy enough -- she didn’t protest at all when Dan reached up and grabbed her, and simply flicked her tail at them when Dan put her down.

No, the problem came when Josh and Maddie started screaming in the background. Not screams of pain, but of play. 

Dan’s shoulders tensed anyway.

“Let me out!” Josh shouted. 

Maddie shrieked in delight.

Phil turned to see only a sliver of what was going on, through the archway into the other room, but he was sure he saw a tiny form tied to a chair with ribbons.

“What are you doing?” Martha turned and frowned at them.

“I’m gonna tie a bomb to him.” Maddie declared, and Josh wailed.

All the color drained from Dan’s face.

Phil placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder, urging him out of the room. “Come on, let’s go.”

Martha glanced at them and her eyes widened, and she took off to the other room. “Madeleine, stop that right now!” 

As soon as she was out of the way, Phil rushed Dan back to their apartment. His hands were shaking as he unlocked the door, but Dan’s entire frame was shaking.

They could still hear the children screaming as Phil pulled Dan inside, but it didn’t sound like play anymore. The distortion from walls and distance made it sound much, much more sinister.

Phil was quick to close the door, allowing Dan to flop onto their couch. They both knew the drill for this. Phil darted to the kitchen and started boiling some water, then moved around opening cupboards and drawers to get all the things he needed.

Finally, he had two cups of tea, and he went back into the living room to find Dan with his journal on his lap, making mindless scribbles.

“Here.” Phil handed one of the cups to Dan.

Dan took it and took a quiet sip, then sighed and slumped backwards into the couch.

They stayed that way for a while, silent, allowing Dan to collect his thoughts. When Dan finally placed his empty cup on the table, Phil looked over. “Better?”

“Mostly.” Dan let out a long sigh. “I’m still shaken from yesterday. That doesn’t help.”

Phil gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then stood and grabbed Dan’s cup. “Did you want a blanket?”

“Please.”

Phil nodded, and walked back to the kitchen to place the cups in the sink. On the way to Dan’s room, he scooped the mail off the kitchen table. Now he would have something to do while Dan bundled in comfort.

Ten minutes later, Phil was opening the last letter. Two had gone in front of Dan -- they were for Dan, after all -- but things like bills and letters from Phil’s family back in England had been opened and read. 

“I’m glad we’re here.” Dan said slowly, quietly. “Things don’t sound very fun back in England.”

Phil looked over to see Dan placing the last of his mail down on the table. “No. They don’t.” He paused, looking at the letter he was holding now. “Chris is coming over here.”

Now it was Dan’s turn to look over, one eyebrow raised. “Really?”

Phil lifted the letter slightly. “He says he’ll be arriving in Boston around November 20th. He wants to know if he can stay with us until he gets settled.”

“We have the guest room.” Dan murmured. “He can sleep there if he stays with us.”

Phil nodded. “But are you okay with him staying with us? He hasn’t seen you since you were drafted.” Hopefully Dan would catch the implied meaning there -- Chris had never seen Dan dealing with the aftermath of the Great War. Chris had never heard Dan sobbing in the middle of the night from nightmares. Chris had never seen Dan spend all his energy just getting out of bed. Chris had never been there to hear Dan telling of the horrors he’d seen -- bodies torn apart by improperly defused bombs, fellow bomb defusers being hit by snipers and dying in Dan’s arms. A burning building with friends trapped inside.

If you weren’t properly prepared, it was horrifying.

Even if you  _ were _ prepared and had been living with Dan for four years, it was horrifying.

“He’ll have to agree to the rules,” Dan said slowly, “but I’m sure he’ll be fine with them. I’m guessing we don’t have time to send a response back before he leaves.”

Phil shook his head. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Dan pulled his blanket tighter around himself, settling into a super comfortable position. “I’m okay with him staying, though, at least for a while.”

Phil nodded, smiling. “It’ll be great to see him again.”

Dan nodded.

There was another moment of silence as Phil sorted the letters and stacked them neatly. 

When he looked back over at Dan, there was an unmistakable look in Dan’s eyes. Dan may not be shaking or crying at this point in time, but he was still very clearly stuck in the past.

Phil sighed and leaned back on his half of the couch, sliding into a position similar to Dan’s. “I figure you getting Abernathy down like that means you’re the one better capable of caring for an animal.”

Dan raised his head and gave Phil a puzzled look.

“My hair will be lightened by the time we go into work tomorrow morning.” Phil promised solemnly.

Dan’s eyebrows went up. “That -- really, Phil?”

“I lost the bet, didn’t I?” Phil shrugged.

A slow grin spread across Dan’s face, and then he laughed. “I can’t wait to see you with silver hair. You’ll really be father time then.”


End file.
